


Late Night Kitchen

by KaT_John_Adams



Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaT_John_Adams/pseuds/KaT_John_Adams
Summary: Inspired by this post: https://elsewhereuniversity.tumblr.com/post/160286007118/how-do-fey-feel-about-food-science-majors
Kudos: 5





	Late Night Kitchen

Sam rubbed his eyes and peered at what was making a… layer cake? Whoever/whatever they were, they were doing a fairly terrible job of pretending to be a student. Sam didn’t care. He had to check his cultures. It was an experiment in cheese production and the cultures had to remain chilled until the rennet and raw milk arrived. Whoever that was just was not actually super essential; _leave alone, left alone_. He still clutched his iron ring tight, _just in case_.

A quick look in the fridge and Sam was happy. Ringing it in a fine iron chain warded off curious Others and cautious students alike.

Something that sounded like a curse came from the creature. The culinary student didn’t know the language, but swearing was pretty universal. He chanced a glance.

“No, no, no, dammit; you need to cut straight across, level and smooth. Sawing around in a circle is gonna make it lumpy like that.”

Sam was tired. Exhausted, really. But he’d never been “correct-one-of-the-Gentlefolk” tired. Clearly a first for everything. It looked at Sam and gestured.

《Fine. You do it.》

_Well. Hell. In for a penny_ , he thought and walked over, slicing the next layer in an experienced sawing cut. The being (some sort of fish? In a plastic face mask?) nodded. For a moment Sam was worried he'd be doing all of the something like seventy or so layers, but the creature just went to work, having learned, copied, and improved the technique in those few moments.

“Well, alright. Have a nice night or … whatever. Oh, and even the hipsters don’t wear New Kids on the Block tee shirts. I think my _mom_ did back then.”

It looked down, mid cut, at the shirt. Then at Sam.

“I dunno, bro, like, something from the last decade? Like One Direction. My uh, sister loves that stuff.”

Another look.

“Okay, I listen to them. Whatever, man.”

Sam’s head hurt as the shirt stopped being New Kids and suddenly was … just Zayn?

“Oh, yeah, ow, but yeah, he was my favorite, too. Look, I gotta get some sleep, so, good luck or whatever.” He waved at the Other weakly and it 《waved》 back without moving and Sam’s head hurt again.

Three weeks later, Sam found a knife. Crude, simple, but long as his forearm and then some, and sharp enough to cut anything he prepared with little effort. He didn’t use it much, but kept it on a shelf. When he opened his first store, artisanal breads and cheeses, he cut the first wheel of brie he’d been working on.

There was a ring at the door as a guest arrived.

“Took you long enough.”


End file.
